


Excuse me - Part 1

by happywhiskers



Series: Excuse Me [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Eventual Fluff, M/M, Slow Build, Soulmate AU, Teen!Cas, Teen!Dean, Teenage destiel, eventual kiss, eventual love, school au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-21 17:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7396735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happywhiskers/pseuds/happywhiskers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"At the break of one’s eighteenth birthday, words will appear on the inside of one’s wrist as an irremovable tattoo – the first words that will be spoken to them by their soulmate from that moment onwards. It is then up to the individual to find their soulmate. If they manage to find them, at the first touch of their soulmate’s lips against their own, the words will disappear from both of the people’s wrists, and they will know that they have found their soulmate. Then they live happily ever after. Simple."</p><p>Dean Winchester's tattoo appears at the break of his eighteenth birthday, but he feels he is cursed by such a vague tattoo. Will he ever be able to find his soulmate? </p><p>Castiel Novak has known his soulmate's name for several months, but has searched for him in vain. However, when he eventually thinks that he has found him, things don't quite go the way that he expected or hoped that they would.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1 - Dean's POV

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, welcome to my third fanfiction!  
> This fic was born through my boredom and desperate search for something to write about. I love soulmate Destiel AUs, and came across this general idea somewhere (I can't remember where) and here we are. Please leave kudos or a comment if you enjoy it. I've only written one chapter so far, and I'm not sure if I actually like it or not, so please lemme know if you want to read more!  
> Thanks for reading! x

Dean Winchester sat on his bed, alone in his room, biting his lip. His right arm lay out to the side, wrist facing upwards, his back propped up against the headboard and long legs stretched out in front of him. His pillows were discarded to the side – he wouldn’t be sleeping much tonight. The curtains were drawn, but the streetlights penetrated slightly through the thin material, providing an orange glow to light the room subtly. Every so often, Dean would hear the sound of a car driving along the road, or hear the faint sounds of laughter as a group passed by beneath his window. He thought about these people, about how they had no idea that he was up here, awaiting possibly the biggest moment of his life.

Every so often, the boy's green gaze would flick to the pale skin of his right wrist, and a sinking feeling of disappointment would strike him every time when he found it to be unmarked. He didn’t know what he was expecting – he knew that it wouldn’t appear until midnight – but it didn’t appear that he was able to stop himself from checking.

Again, he looked down at his wrist, and, again, it was as clear as day. The boy let out a huff of frustration, then checked his watch. 11:52 PM. For God’s sake, could the time drag by any fucking slower? He doubted it.

Tomorrow was Dean’s eighteenth birthday, and everyone knew what that meant. At the break of one’s eighteenth birthday, words will appear on the inside of one’s wrist as an irremovable tattoo – the first words that will be spoken to them by their soulmate from that moment onwards. It is then up to the individual to find their soulmate. If they do manage to find them, at the first touch of their soulmate’s lips against their own, the words will disappear from both of the people’s wrists, and they will know that they have found their soulmate. Then they live happily ever after. Simple.

Dean tilted his head back, the back of his head hitting the wall behind his bed. Not everyone found their soulmate, he knew that. Some people went mad trying to find theirs, growing older and older and never meeting them. Some people disregarded the whole thing and settled with someone who wasn’t actually destined to be theirs, though these people were sometimes shunned slightly from society through prejudice. For some reason, the thing was rigged up so that most people did actually find their soulmate, as it was usually someone who lived close enough by them to be found, but not everyone was that fortunate. Some people also didn’t actually believe that their soulmate was the right person for them upon finding them, and there were always stories about people leaving their designated partners. These people were even more shunned from society.

No-one knew how it had originated, or what divine force had designed it, or even when it had begun. Most guessed that it had been around for as long as people have been able to read, maybe even before then in some other form. The purpose was also unknown. Dean didn’t know if it was a blessing or a curse upon humanity. He also didn’t know how he felt about it.

Settling down with one person permanently wasn’t really in Dean’s nature – he wasn’t very good with commitment, in whatever form. However, this felt different. He couldn’t describe it, but something had him checking his wrist every few seconds. Anticipation had his heart racing in his chest, and his mind desperately willing the time to pass faster. What would the words be when they finally made a bloody appearance? What would the words on his soulmate’s wrist be, when he found her? God, he hoped that it wasn’t something stupid.

Dean’s mind wandered, and he wondered who his soulmate would be. It might be slightly easier if it was a girl that he already knew, less awkward to speak to her and then immediately know that they were going to spend the rest of their lives together than if it was a stranger. If not, then he’d just have to speak to every girl that he ever saw until he found her.

Dean sighed quietly, not wanting to wake up his brother, Sammy, who was sleeping in the next room. He had always known that it would be tough, it was what everyone had told him, but the full reality was hitting him now. It felt like a ton of bricks being dropped onto his chest. What would he do if he never found her? Dean bit his lip harder, finding that he was getting close to drawing blood. He imagined growing older, his hair greying and wrinkles lining his handsome face, spending his whole life alone as he desperately approached and greeted random girls every so often, his heart sinking when he got the wrong response every single time.

No, that wouldn’t happen. He would find her, he knew he would. Most people found their soulmates. His parents had; all of his friends’ parents had; his Uncle Bobby had too. However, his own mother and Bobby's wife, Karen, had died, leaving John Winchester and Bobby Singer alone. That was another reason why the whole deal felt like a curse for Dean – you only get one soulmate. You lose them and you’re alone, that's it. They could even die before you meet them, and you'd have to live your whole life desperately trying to find someone who doesn't even exist anymore. Dean felt sickened, and tried not to think of it that way, instead focusing again on who his soulmate might actually be.

What would she look like? Dean had seen plenty of hot girls before that had caught his eye for a while, all with gorgeous features that had his heart racing and his blood rushing through his body. Red hair, black hair, brown hair, blonde hair, short, tall, skinny, curvy, busty, athletic, black, white, tan, cute, beautiful, pretty… the list went on. He wasn’t that picky. His mind ran through all the ones that he’d seen before, or even dated before, wondering if it would be one of them, when a thought occurred to him. What if it was a dude?

This pulled him up short in his thoughts, the image of the tall, slender, African-American girl that he’d seen walking through town the other day fading from his mind’s eye. Would he end up actually being gay? No, he digged girls far too much. Boobs were awesome. Dating a variety of people was acceptable before the age of eighteen, and Dean had been one of the many who did so. The only problem was when young people got attached, then realised that the person that they had fallen in love with, or thought they'd fallen in love with, wasn’t their soulmate. Hence, Dean had dated a few girls in previous years, but never stayed with them for longer than a month, and he hadn’t been with anyone officially for about half a year.

Sex was a different matter. It was also perfectly acceptable to lose one’s virginity before the age of eighteen, instead of it having to be given to one’s soulmate. Dean had had sex a lot before, and only with girls, and enjoyed it immensely. Would he find out that he was gay? Definitely not. Bisexual? Maybe... Sure, dudes could be hot too, but he’d never been with one before. To be completely honest with himself, the thought scared Dean slightly, but he didn’t know why.

Dean shook his head slightly, then glanced down at his watch again, his heart skipping a beat when his wandering mind registered the time. The face read 12:03 AM – Dean was eighteen years old. He had had his tattoo for three whole minutes and not looked at it yet. His green eyes hurriedly flicked down to his wrist, his heart in his mouth. Two words were written on the soft skin of the inside of his wrist in ornate, black, cursive script, looking like they’d been there forever.

_Excuse me._

Dean felt his chest deflate like a popped balloon as he read the words. No, please no. He closed his eyes tightly, then opened them, hoping that the words had somehow changed. Nope, still the same. Shit. This is what people dreaded, and this was what he had bloody gotten. Shit, shit, shit.

Vague soulmate tattoos were a curse, causing despair to anyone unlucky enough to receive one. Anyone and everyone could say ‘Excuse me’ to Dean and then just walk away – how many times did he hear it every single day when in school, in town or pretty much fucking anywhere? Too fucking many, that was the answer. He was so screwed.

Suddenly feeling incredibly tired, Dean slumped to the right, his back sliding down his bed’s headboard so that he now lay on the bed. He curled his body in, tucking his knees up close to his chest. The words bounced around the inside of his skull, a mantra that would slowly send him insane. He rubbed his left hand over his face, not even wanting to look at his right wrist, feeling like he’d been betrayed. This was the one thing that he had to find his soulmate, the love of his life, his divinely selected partner, the person that he would spend the entirety of his life with; and it was absolute shit. The whole thing was fucked up – Dean suddenly hated it viciously.

He imagined showing his family in the morning, and then his friends when he arrived at school. He imagined their initial excitement at wanting to see what it was, then the sympathy in their faces when they realised how hard it was going to be for him to find them. _Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me._ His phone buzzed loudly from where he'd thrown it carelessly at the end of the bed earlier on in the night. It was probably a text from one of his friends, eager to know what the words were.

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to leave kudos and/or a comment if you'd like to read more!


	2. Chapter 2 - Cas' POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I was totally overwhelmed by the amount of support that I received for this fic, I wasn't really expecting anything! Thank you so so much if you left a nice comment or kudos - it really made my day yesterday.  
> Okie dokie, so, per request, here's Cas' first chapter! I'm English, so any irregularities for you in the school format will probably be down to country differences, thought I've tried to make it as generic as possible :)  
> Thanks for reading x

Castiel Novak’s alarm began to ring unpleasantly right next to his ear about seven and a half hours after Dean Winchesters’ tattoo appeared on his wrist (unbeknown to Castiel), making the blue-eyed boy groan loudly into his pillow, his hand flying out from under his duvet to shut off the infernal noise. He fumbled for his phone on his nightstand, knocking off several items, causing him to wince and curse quietly every time one hit the floor loudly. Eventually, his sleepy hand found the phone and somehow managed to unlock it, quieting the sound. Ah, blissful silence. Castiel could very easily fall asleep again, but he knew that that wasn’t a possibility. As much as his sleep-heavy body didn’t want to move, he had to get up and get ready for school.

The boy groaned again and rubbed one of his hands over his face and through his rumpled hair. Ah, school - his favourite bloody place on Earth. Who didn’t love having to deal with irritating people day in, day out, having to live through humiliating PE lessons or hastily, shittily thrown together class presentations that ultimately led to practically terminal embarrassment and terrible grades, and to have to sit through endless hours of revision to learn crap for tests that would be absolutely useless in real life? Since when would Castiel have to work out an unknown angle in a triangle or have to analyse the meaning of a passage of _To Kill A Mockingbird_ to pay his bills? Fucking never, that’s when.

It took a while, but the boy eventually managed to heave his ass out of bed, and then began to stumble around the house, preparing himself for the crap day ahead of him. It was nearly eight o’clock by the time he was running a comb through his bed-headed hair, his neatly packed school bag at his feet. The boy frowned at his reflection as he ran the teeth of the green plastic comb through the badly-knotted mess on top of his head, wondering how he would be able to make it lay flat enough to be presentable for the day. He began to tug at the hair at the front of his head, and as he did, the sleeve of his white shirt fell down his arm just enough to expose his right wrist, the words there being exposed enough to be glimpsed at in the mirror. Castiel lowered his arm and pulled the sleeve back enough to look at them properly. He’d read them countless times before, and they were ingrained into his memory probably forever, but that didn’t stop him from continually checking them.

Unsurprisingly, they were exactly the same as they had been when he’d woken up on the morning of his eighteenth birthday several months ago – he’d tried to stay up and wait for them, but had fallen asleep. They were written in beautiful, curled script, inked in a deep black colour: _Hey, I’m Dean._

Castiel knew that he was very fortunate with his tattoo. He knew his soulmate’s name, and Dean wasn’t the most common name in the world. He didn’t actually know anyone called Dean at the moment, and hadn’t met anyone since turning eighteen with the name, but he hoped that that would change. He was certain that it would – he had to meet his soulmate. He didn’t know what he’d do if he didn’t.

He shrugged his shirt sleeve down again and went back to the task of trying to tame his wild, dark hair, pushing the thoughts of his soulmate from his mind. He would meet him when he met him; simple. For now, he would just focus on his schoolwork (and his annoying hair at this moment in time) - he would meet Dean when they were both ready. Castiel felt a rush of happiness at the thought and he watched a silly, small smile appear on his face in the mirror – Dean, his soulmate.

* * *

 

Castiel made his way to school quickly after finally deciding that his hair was good enough, walking the half hour journey alone. His dad was always too busy to give him a lift, and none of his friends lived nearby, meaning that Castiel always found himself making the trek to and from school alone. Not that he minded it that much – it gave him time to be alone with his thoughts.

He used to walk with his younger sister, Anna, but she had recently found someone else to walk with and now left the house earlier than he did, leaving Castiel alone. Anna was his only sibling that hadn't moved out yet, and he loved her, but they didn’t often get on, and they had mostly spent their time bickering as they had walked. For this reason, Castiel found that he was partially glad that she’d found someone else to irritate for the journey.

The boy walked through the school doorways a little before form was due to start, giving him just enough time to swing by his locker before the school day began, which he was glad about – he hated carrying his heavy textbooks around with him all day. The hallways were thick with people heading in a variety of directions: trying to get to form early, or just simply milling around their lockers, alone or in small groups. Castiel muttered small “Excuse me”s as he pushed through the crowds, trying not to knock anyone out with his elbows or bag.

When he finally reached his locker, someone was standing in the way of it. If Castiel hadn’t been worrying about being late, he might have noticed that it was a boy, and an attractive one at that. If he’d have been paying further attention, he might have noticed the sad, heavy look in the boy’s green eyes, or the slump of his shoulders as he leaned heavily against the lockers. However, Castiel was in a hurry, and noticed none of these things, nor much of his appearance, which, on any other day, he would have found very appealing. He didn’t even look up at the boy’s face, even though the boy only had about an inch or two on his own height.

“Excuse me,” Castiel said, looking down at his side as he shifted his bag on his shoulder, coming to a stop just in front of the person.

Unfortunately, they appeared not to have heard him, as they didn’t move. Frustrated, Castiel cleared his throat, preparing to ask the boy to move again, more loudly this time, but a bell sounded loudly from somewhere down the corridor, making Castiel look in that direction, his heart jumping at the sudden noise, signifying that form had begun.

On the downside, Castiel was now late, and feeling a little panicky. He’d been marked as late a few too many times this year, from oversleeping or just being lazy, so couldn’t afford another one, meaning that he’d now have to hurry even more. On the plus side,the person had apparently moved away when Castiel had been distracted by the bell, still not having seen him, meaning that Castiel could finally now access his locker.

Not thinking any more of the encounter, Castiel practically threw open his locker, chucked his books in and then hared down the corridor to his form room. Fortunately, he just avoided a late mark.

* * *

 

Form was incredibly uneventful. It was mid-year, so nothing much was happening. People were obviously preparing for final exams in a few months, but it was nothing aside from the usual. Castiel spent the majority of his time doodling on his notes, much to his friend’s annoyance.

“C’mon, Cassie, you know I hate the rest of the tossers here. Please talk to me, buddy,” Gabriel whined from his seat beside Castiel, tilting his head back as he poured a small packet of sherbet straight into his mouth, completely disregarding the fact that he was meant to dip the accompanying strawberry lolly into it instead of eating it in one. Castiel wasn’t sure how he hadn’t been caught for eating in class yet, or how he hadn’t yet died from the sheer amount of sugar that he consumed daily, mostly in school, but he wasn’t going to ask about either. Gabriel was one of the very few that Castiel could actually stand permanently around here.

Castiel settled for simply rolling his eyes, glancing down at Gabriel’s chair. He was leaning so far back on it that it looked very probable that he would fall.

“Someone else got their soulmate tattoo last night, heard it wasn’t a great one,” Gabriel continued, his voice thick around the sherbet, completely undeterred by Castiel’s apparent lack of interest in him, his tone conversational. “Dunno who it was, someone called Derek or Eugene or Dean. I think he’s fairly new.”

Castiel made a noncommittal noise, trying to cover up the fact that his heart had started fluttering wildly like a trapped bird in his ribcage when the other boy had said ‘Dean’. It probably wasn’t really the boy’s name – Gabriel was always messing up people’s name, pretending that he was cool enough to strut around and not actually know what people were called. He also knew about Castiel’s own tattoo, so might have said it deliberately just to get Castiel to talk to him, the son of a bitch.  It wouldn’t be him; it wouldn’t be his Dean.

“Why wasn’t it a great one?” Castiel asked, casually, finally abandoning his attempts to doodle in peace. Gabriel was a stubborn bastard at times, but Castiel couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t interested in the subject. Soulmating was a huge part of everyone’s lives – who wouldn’t be interested?

“It was something really general, like a really difficult one, like ‘Hello’ or something,” Gabriel replied, after swallowing loudly, seeming pleased that Castiel was actually putting something into the conversation.

Castiel nodded, looking away slightly, feeling sorry for the poor guy. He and Gabriel had never been too concerned about their tattoos or finding their soulmates, so weren’t too affected when discussing the misfortune of others. Gabriel’s tattoo said ' _Shove off, you douche nugget_ ', so it would probably be even easier for him than Castiel. Gabriel also, for some reason, loved having the words ‘douche nugget’ tattooed on his body, and it was a constant source of amusement for Castiel.

“Sucks,” Castiel murmured, vaguely, before Gabriel changed the subject and started to talk on at him about what he had done the previous evening.

Castiel returned to doodling.

* * *

 

First period was Biology for Castiel and Physics for Gabriel, and the two parted ways after form, but not before Gabriel had threatened to rip up Castiel’s notebook and shove the pieces up one of Castiel’s lower orifices if he didn’t stop drawing in form instead of talking to him, accompanying the threat with a not-so-light smack to the back of the boy's head.

Castiel, still rubbing the back of his head, wandered along to the Chemistry labs by himself, being one of the first to arrive when he walked in through the door. He nodded to the teacher and assumed his usual position on a row near the front of the classroom. He didn’t have any friends in this class, so sat on his own at the laboratory desk. It was lonely, at times, but Castiel didn’t mind too much, as it allowed him to fully focus on the work.

The boy pulled his books from his bag and settled more comfortably in his seat, idly alternating between watching the rest of the class filter in and reading over the work that he had produced last lesson. One particular person caught his eye as they strode in. It was a tall boy in a leather jacket that he didn’t recognise – perhaps he was new. For some reason, the jacket seemed vaguely familiar, but Castiel didn’t think too much of it, and quickly looked back at his hastily scrawled notes from the previous lesson, trying to concentrate completely on them. He failed, and his gaze unwillingly returned to watching the stranger.

The said boy made his way to the front of the classroom and began to talk to the teacher quietly. By this time, most of the class had stopped their own conversations, seeing that the boy was different, and were watching the conversation too. The boy seemed unbothered by the attention. Castiel immediately noticed that, even from a distance, he was very attractive, and it seemed that everyone else had noticed this too – they were either watching his lustfully or jealously. The occasional burst of excited whispering came from behind him, usually in a female-sounding voice, as the class waited silently.

After a few moments, the boy nodded, then both the teacher and he looked at a spot immediately to Castiel’s right. Castiel followed their gazes, confused, and saw that they were looking at the empty seat beside him. The only empty seat in the class. It seemed that Castiel was now to have a work buddy.

Before Castiel could prepare himself, the boy was striding through the classroom towards him, ignoring the watchful gazes of the rest of their classmates. Castiel looked down at his books again, blushing slightly for a reason unknown to him, pretending to read as the boy’s footsteps got louder, not looking up until the boy had sat down next to him. When he did finally look up, Castiel was immediately captivated by the boy’s eyes. They were a beautiful, emerald green, but held a concealed, yet still obviously sad look, and Castiel vaguely wondered what had caused his sadness as he took in the rest of the boy’s tanned, lightly-freckled face.

He didn’t speak for several moments and neither did the other boy, but he was watching Castiel slightly strangely. That’s when Castiel realised that he had been openly staring at him. Shit. He cleared his throat and looked away for a moment before returning his gaze to the boy’s handsome face. “Er, hi. My name is Castiel.”

The boy notably relaxed when Castiel spoke, probably relieved that he had stopped staring at him creepily. He then opened his mouth and calmly said the three words that Castiel had been waiting to be spoken to him since he had woken up on the morning of his eighteenth birthday, several months ago.

“Hey, I’m Dean.”

_Oh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to leave nice pressies (A.K.A kudos and comments :)) if you want to read more! x


	3. Chapter 3 - Dean's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for any confusion with British terms and stuff - I don't think that it's anything too major, so just roll with it, 'kay? ^.^  
> Enjoy the chapter!

Dean strode into the Chemistry classroom, following behind a small group of girls that appeared to be discussing the best way to get drunk quickly, hoping that he’d come to the right room. He’d only been at the school that he was currently attending for a few weeks, due to another uprooting of his family to live somewhere else, thanks to his fabulous father. Ever since his mother had died when he was four - in a house fire that had almost killed his little brother, Sam, too – his father had been an alcoholic mess. They moved pretty frequently, which Dean wouldn’t mind too much if it weren’t for Sammy. He knew that the kid hated moving around all the time – he hated making friends and then losing them, and he also hated the effect that the moves had on his grades and schoolwork. Therefore, Dean hated the moves as well. Anything that made Sam unhappy made him unhappy. Dean didn’t fully know why they moved so much, but would have a pretty educated guess at John trying to escape from debts that he couldn’t cover, racked up via gambling and drinking. God, Dean hated the son of a bitch sometimes.

Besides, what if he met his soulmate here? Dad wouldn’t make him move away from her, would he? The thought of his soulmate made Dean bite his lip, and the words tattooed on the inside of his wrist flashed through his mind again, hopelessness and sadness that he’d managed to force away for a few brief minutes flooding back into him. This was assuming that he did actually find his soulmate. The looks on Sam and his Dad’s faces this morning, as well as his friends when he’d met them before school and in form, when he’d reluctantly shown them his wrist were on a constant reply in his mind’s eye. It was the first time that his Dad had shown any form of sympathy towards him in years – Mary, Dean’s mother, had been John’s soulmate, and he had loved her desperately. He still did, which was mainly the reason why he had turned to the drink rather than caring for her two sons that she’d left behind in his care after her death. Stupid bastard.

Anyway, they’d automatically stuck Dean in the thicker classes upon him enrolling to the school, but had soon realised that Dean was well above the other kids in the set. He didn’t bother with school much, but he was actually pretty intelligent, and he’d accidently let it show. Therefore, there he was, being moved up a set to work with kids that actually knew the difference between a carnival and a carnivore for once. He usually just dumbed himself down to avoid all this stupid moving up and down and actually being expected to work. Dean guessed that he’d probably find himself moved back down soon. This was shaping up to be a completely shitty birthday.

After a quick scan of the room, Dean located the teacher and approached her, explaining his presence briefly in a deliberately bored tone, pushing away the sadness caused by his soulmate tattoo and putting up his well-practised, deliberately careless façade, as always. He didn’t want her to get the wrong impression that he was here to work, or, even worse, that he wanted to be there. The teacher seemed to have been expecting him, and pointed out the seat that he was expected to sit in after minimal conversation, her impatient actions clearly telling Dean that she wanted to start the lesson as soon as possible, and wanted Dean out of her hair. Dean glanced over in the direction that she had indicated, seeing that it was next to a kid with messy, dark hair who was staring directly at him, like the rest of the class.

Dean nodded to the teacher, then made his way over to his designated seat, noting how his new partner quickly ducked his head, staring at some notes on the desk in front of him. Oh good, a nerd. He could copy up his work. Awesome. The boy also didn’t seem to have gotten the memo about the dress code being casual, as he was all garbed up in his Sunday best with a white shirt and a dark blue tie, the sleeves of the shirt not even being rolled up. Dean guessed that the bench hid dark dress pants and sensible shoes, maybe with a leather satchel? Cool, a double nerd. This could either be very beneficial for him, as the kid could help him get his grades up, or very irritating for him, as he’d only have a nerd to talk to for the duration of these lessons, which would result in him being bored to tears. Or both. Probably both.

Dean dropped his bag on the ground and slid onto his assigned stool upon reaching the bench, looking back at the boy next to him when he was seated. He was staring at Dean intently. His eyes were slightly squinted, like he was scrutinising Dean’s every flaw, but Dean could still make out the deep blue of them. Dean shifted slightly in his seat when the boy didn’t look away after a small while of this staring. He didn’t want to submit and break the eye contact, but he really wanted the boy to stop. Did he have something on his nose or something?

Finally, the kid seemed to realise that he was making Dean uncomfortable, and he looked away awkwardly, filling Dean with relief, as he cleared his throat. When he looked back, his eyes weren’t as squinty and he looked a lot more normal, but a bit embarrassed. His high cheekbones were lightly tinged with pink. “Er, hi. My name is Castiel.”

Dean relaxed a little more, glad that his partner could actually speak instead of just stare. Castiel? Strange name. Whatever, Dean wasn’t too bothered. “Hey, I’m Dean.”

The response was immediate and unexpected. Castiel froze. His mouth fell open, fully open, and his eyes widened to form a shocked expression that would be quite comical if Dean wasn’t so surprised. His already pale face actually whitened – he looked like he’d seen a bloody ghost or something. He seemed unable to speak.

The teacher had started the lesson by this point, but neither Dean nor Castiel were listening. Castiel continued to stare at Dean’s face, his mouth still open, his blue eyes flitting over every feature that Dean had to offer, like Dean had just revealed the deepest secrets of the universe to him, not uttering a word of explanation, until Dean looked away awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck. What was it with this guy and bloody staring at him? Why the hell did he have to have gotten moved up a set – he hoped that Castiel wouldn’t keep up this staring thing all year. It was getting kind of weird. “Um, was it something I said?”

Castiel didn’t respond, and silence lay thick and heavy between the two boys. When Dean looked back at him, his face still held the same astonished expression, but it also held a tentative hint of hope now. It glimmered softly in his eyes, giving him a look of pure innocence. “What… what did you say?” he asked, his voice a low and gravelly whisper.

“Er, when?”

“The first thing that you said to me. What did you say?” Castiel said quickly, sounding slightly frustrated now.

Dean fixed him with an incredulous look, but repeated what he had said, as requested. “Er… Hey, I’m Dean?”

“Fuck me.”

Dean almost laughed, not expecting him to be the sort to curse. He looked like the nice boy who went to church every Sunday and shined his shoes before he left the house in the morning and did all his homework and clutched his heart every time someone used God’s name in vain. Clearly, he had been mistaken. “At least let me buy you dinner first,” he replied lightly, smiling uncertainly, not really knowing what was going on, but going along with it anyway. He had no idea what else he should do.

The boy didn’t seem to have heard him. He was fumbling with the cuff of his shirt, unbuttoning it as quickly as possible. Then he yanked it back, and Dean saw the black script of a soulmate tattoo there. Now hang on a second-

“It’s you,” Castiel whispered, his eyes fixed on the tattoo, then lifting to meet Dean’s own again. The shock was gone, and his face was lit up with a child-like happiness and joy. His voice rose in pitch and volume. “You’re my soulmate!”

“Now hang on, mate-“

“I’ve found my soulmate! I’ve found you! Oh my God, I-“

“Cas, shut up,” Dean hissed, glancing around them quickly. Fortunately, and amazingly, no-one was listening to them. He looked back at Castiel, and felt saddened. He was going to break this guy’s heart. “I… I’m not your soulmate.”

Dean could actually see the elation draining from Castiel’s face. “What?” he whispered, the cuff of his sleeve falling down to cover his wrist again. “What do you mean? I, I don’t understand. You said… you…”

Dean sighed softly, then yanked back the right cuff of his own sleeve, bunching up the leather of his father’s old hunting jacket to expose the tattooed skin. He tilted it towards Castiel, allowing the boy to read the two words imprinted there. _Excuse me._ Cas’ eyes racked over the tattoo several times, flitting back and forth from ‘excuse’ to ‘me’, like he couldn’t believe it. He probably couldn’t – Dean could practically feel the disbelief radiating off him. The boy grabbed Dean’s wrist and brought it closer to his face, like it was fake, like Dean was lying to him.

Castiel then dropped Dean’s wrist suddenly, like it had burned him, and Dean brought it into his body, settling it on his lap, biting his lip again. He really needed to stop doing that – he was going to end up doing some permanent damage.

Castiel looked lost. “But, you said it to me. You said the words. How…?”

Dean shrugged. He was sure that there were a lot of Deans around – just because he said those words, it didn’t mean that he was Castiel’s soulmate. He opened his mouth to say this to Castiel, but the boy had already started talking again.

“No, you are my soulmate. You are, I know it. I can feel it. Maybe we spoke some other time before…? I feel like we might have, you look vaguely familiar.” He stared intently at Dean, doing the squinty thing again, analysing him. Dean had to fight hard not to roll his eyes or make some sarcastic comment. “Have you seen me before? Come on, you must have.”

Good grief, it must be love at first sight for this kid. Dean didn’t know what to say. Sure, Cas was pretty cute or whatever, but he… He wasn’t homophobic, but he had just wanted a woman for a soulmate. Was that too much to bloody ask? He could have kids, get a nice house, and get a dog. He could have a white picket fence and an apple pie life, like his own family would have had if his mother hadn’t died and Dad hadn’t gone off his nut. God, what would Dad say if his soulmate _was_ Castiel, or some other guy for that matter? Dean didn’t like to think. His father didn't exactly have a reputation for being tolerable about, well, anything.

Having Castiel for his soulmate would just make things too… complicated. Why was he so convinced that they were to be together? Cas hadn’t said the right words to him – there, that was the end of it. They could continue their lives as happy little Chemistry partners forever and forget all about this small incident. Unfortunately, Castiel didn’t seem able to accept this. Bloody hell – he’d only had the fucking tattoo for a few hours and it was already causing him trouble.

“I don’t think so…” Dean began, uneasily, not ever being able to recall seeing the messy haired kid in his life. By now, people around them were starting to look at them curiously, wondering what all the fuss was about. Dean fixed a few of them with his death glare that _clearly_ told them to fuck off, but they didn’t seem to get the message. He dropped his voice to a low whisper. “Look, Castiel, can we just drop it?”

“But I-“

“Cas. Drop it,” his voice came out a lot more sharply than he had intended, but it seemed to do the trick. Castiel stopped speaking mid-sentence, narrowing his eyes again, but in a dangerous look. Something told Dean that the conversation was not over for him yet, and he sighed internally. Why did this guy have to be so goddamn stubborn?

Then the look was gone from the other boy’s face and Castiel turned away from him, obviously and deliberately angling his body so that he couldn’t see Dean in his peripheral vision, like the sight of him offended him or something. He flicked to a clean page in his notebook and began to scribble down the notes that the teacher was writing down on the board in a green marker pen, acting like the whole thing had never happened. Dean sighed audibly this time, earning himself and Castiel even more curious looks, but he wasn't too bothered – great, now he’d pissed off his new nerd partner. He’d never be able to copy him after this.

The boy slouched back in his chair and pretended to listen to the rest of the lesson with a glassy look in his eyes, zoning out completely. He didn’t really need to listen – he didn’t need Chemistry to become a mechanic. Castiel didn’t look over at him once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much for your continued support everyone - it really means the absolute world to me, I love you all! Reading every nice comment that you leave literally makes me squeal with happiness, so thank you to every single one of you who has taken the time to write something for me. Also, constructive feedback is definitely welcome, so please don't be afraid to point out anything that I'm not doing very well, or anything :)  
> Kudos + comments = chapters, remember your maths kids  
> Thanks again for reading! x


	4. Chapter 4 - Cas' POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, I know I write this all the time, but, screw you, I'm gonna say it again: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR COMMENTS! Seriously guys, they really keep me going. I've stopped replying to them, as I found that I was just saying the same thing over and over, but I read and reread them all and I end up just grinning at the computer screen like an idiot because they make me so happy. Thank you :)  
> Hope you enjoy this chapter!

The moment the bell went, Castiel rammed his stuff into his satchel at double speed and flew out of the classroom door. He could feel the confused look that was sent in his direction by Dean, but he ignored the other boy and focused on being the first out of the door. He’d a good half of the lesson planning this – it’d better bloody work.

He wanted to give Dean the impression that he was upset and had run away. Maybe that would amp up the guilt on his part and make him easier to reason with. Then, later on, he would corner the taller boy and make him discuss this whole thing properly, because, no matter how much he protested, they were soulmates. They were; Castiel could feel it. He would convince Dean, he would. He would do it now if he could, but he had Maths second period, and he wasn’t really keen on missing it. He'd never been one to skip class on a whim.

It was strange: Castiel didn’t really know why he wanted Dean to be his soulmate so badly. The boy was rude, careless and aloof. He’d cut Castiel off, acted embarrassed at Castiel’s happiness and not even attempted any of the work in the lesson, like he was above it all. The boy acted like he was a bloody king, for God’s sake. Castiel had no reason to like him.

Yet, there was something there. From the moment that Dean had spoken those first three words to him, he had felt a connection with him. He couldn’t explain it, but it had been there. Also, he knew that there was more to Dean than Dean was willing to let on. He’d glimpsed deep sadness and vulnerability in those forest green eyes, carefully concealed by a tough, indifferent exterior, and every so often his guard had fallen, and Castiel had been confronted by the boy that he really was. He was someone who was hurting – from what, Castiel didn’t know. But he wanted to know, he really did. He wanted to help him, and to be there for him, because he looked like he had no-one else in the world.

It also helped greatly that Dean was _very_ easy on the eyes.

When Castiel had left the classroom and was absolutely sure that Dean wasn’t nearby, he slowed his pace and walked calmly to Maths. He liked Maths quite a lot – it was one of the few subjects that made absolute sense to him – and he just hoped that Dean wasn’t in his class.

Fortunately, he wasn’t. Castiel assumed his usual seat next to Gabriel, but didn’t listen to the lesson, for perhaps the first time ever. Gabriel occasionally hissed a “Dude, what the hell?” or a “Why aren’t you taking notes?” or “I fucking need you to take notes for me to pass, Castiel Novak, get on with it!” at him, which he ignored. He was thinking over much more important things.

Break was next, which would give Castiel twenty minutes to track Dean down and to make him believe that they were soulmates. Where would he be? God, Castiel didn’t even know the boy’s surname, never mind where he would be likely to hang out, who he’d be with… He should have just grabbed him straight after Chemistry and skipped Maths – it wasn’t doing him much good today, since he wasn’t even listening. Castiel never thought that he’d see a day when he considered skipping class, but this was important. Dean was his future, he just needed to get him to see that.

* * *

 

Gabriel was even more confused when Castiel practically ran away from his at the end of Maths. They’d spent every break and lunch together since they’d met at the age of sixteen, along with a small handful of other friends. Castiel had never ditched him without an explanation before.

“What the fuck is wrong with you today, Castiel?” he hollered after him, hands cupped around his mouth to amplify his voice, as Castiel weaved between the tables in the classroom, making a beeline for the doorway the second the bell rang.

Castiel could understand why he was confused – he was acting very strangely, even he knew that – but he had no time to explain now. “Sorry, Gabriel. I’ll see you later!” he called over his shoulder as he left the room, leaving a very pissed off friend behind him. He’d probably pay for that later.

Upon leaving the classroom, Castiel paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Where should he look first? The canteen – would Dean buy food? Or would he have had a free period and gone home for a bit; did he live close enough to do that? What if he’d gone out with friends into the nearby town? Castiel would never be able to find him there.

Castiel was hesitating, dithering indecisively outside the Maths classroom, when the fates decided to smile down on him for once. He looked around and there, just in front of him, was Dean walking past. Alone. Castiel could have cried out in joy.

He surged forwards and grabbed Dean’s wrist – his right one for that matter, clasping his fingers tightly around the other boy’s soulmate tattoo.

“Hey, what the-“ Dean began, whipping round to look at him, bringing his arm into his body, but stopped when he saw who it was. He gave Castiel a mildly irritated look. “Oh.”

“Come with me,” Castiel growled, his anger and upset from earlier flooding back at the sight of the handsome boy. Not actually trusting Dean to follow him, he gripped his wrist harder and began to pull him down the corridor, earning the pair a few strange looks from other people around them. Castiel couldn’t have given less of a shit – he had more important things on his mind at the moment.

He pulled a quietly grumbling Dean down the corridor to a pair of open double glass doors that provided one exit to the school building. Not many people used these doors, as they just led to a small, crappy, paved courtyard where people could spend their free time if they wanted to. It only housed a few old benches, and the school hadn’t wasted any funds trying to pretty it up or make it more comfortable, so hardly anyone used it. Castiel figured that it would be a good place to talk. The crowds were thinner here, and Castiel guided himself and Dean out of the doors easily. He stepped to the right, so as not to block the doorway if anyone else did show up, and released Dean. The other boy frowned unhappily at him, pulling his wrists into his chest, like he was afraid that Castiel would grab him again. Castiel sighed – maybe wrist grabbing hadn’t been the best idea. His people skills weren’t his greatest asset.

“What do you want?” Dean asked, warily, rubbing his right wrist like Castiel had hurt him, which he hadn’t. He’d been very careful not to, however much Dean had annoyed him.

“To talk,” Castiel replied, coldly. He thought back to the lesson that they’d sat together in. He’d been so excited about finally potentially finding his soulmate, and Dean had crushed him. Crushed him like an insignificant bug. He’d been so blunt and unfeeling about it all, destroying Castiel’s hopes with barely a sympathetic glance to soothe the sting of his words. Castiel had been so confused – he’d been trying to figure out if it was still possible, for them to have found each other, but Dean had basically told him to shut up, then looked around like he was ashamed of what Castiel was suggesting. Of course, he had to get the homophobic boy, didn’t he? Castiel had thought that Dean would’ve been pleased to find a potential soulmate, even if it did mean that he was gay. Didn’t everyone just want to find theirs? True, he hadn’t said the right words, but how many people had he said “Excuse me” to this morning? Dean could easily have been one of them.

Dean let out a long huff of air. “There’s really nothing to talk about, Castiel. We aren’t soulmates, you didn’t say the right thing, and that’s fine. End of story.”

Castiel crossed his arms stubbornly across his chest. “How many people did you say ‘excuse me’ to this morning?”

Dean looked down at the ground, grumpily, and didn’t answer.

“Precisely. I said it to a lot of people too, you could have been one of them, but you just didn’t hear, it’s very likely that…” Castiel trailed off, making Dean look back up at him, and his mouth fell open for the second time that morning at his realisation. His eyes had trailed down from Dean’s face whilst he’d been talking and were fixed on the other boy’s worn-looking, brown leather jacket. He’d seen it before, this morning to be precise – Dean had been the one standing in front of his locker! That had been why the jacket had looked familiar in Chemistry before! He hadn’t looked up at Dean’s face at the time because he’d been panicking about being late, but he was certain that it had been him. “It was you, you were standing in front of my locker this morning! I asked you to move, but you didn’t hear me!”

Dean looked uncomfortable. “Look, dude, I don’t remember anyone-“

Castiel rolled his eyes, his voice exasperated. “Yeah, because you didn’t hear me!”

Dean narrowed his eyes, sounding sceptical. “I really don’t think so, Castiel.”

Castiel groaned, pressing his hands to his forehead and turning on the spot in frustration – why was he so fucking stubborn? He’d also noticed how Dean kept calling him Castiel – he’d called him Cas when they’d first met. Castiel was getting to the end of his tether: he was either going to end up kissing or killing this boy. The latter was looking more tempting at the moment. “Dear God, what did I do wrong?” he whispered, softly, more to himself than Dean.

Dean heard anyway. “What?”

Castiel slid his hands back from his forehead, smoothing them over his dark hair that he’d spent so much time perfecting that morning, probably messing it up again. He couldn’t bring himself to care in the slightest. “Why are you so against this? Do you not like gay people or something?” Castiel spoke, staring Dean directly in the eye. Dean flinched when he said ‘gay’ – actually flinched. Oh God, what had he gotten himself into?

“What? No! I-“

“Liar.”

Dean frowned deeply, his eyebrows knitting together. “I don’t mind gay people, I just… I don’t want to be one, okay?”

“Why?”

Dean shifted his booted feet, looking down at them intently. “I just… I’ve never been with a guy before. I don’t think that my Dad would be too keen either…”

Castiel rolled his eyes. He’d never been with anyone before, girl or boy. He knew that he was gay, that much was certain, but he’d never even kissed anyone before. It didn’t matter – Dean was just using the dating thing as a bullshit excuse. “Are you not attracted to guys then?”

“I didn’t say that,” Dean responded, very quietly. Castiel felt hope flutter in his chest once more – maybe not all was lost. Dean looked up at him again and sighed. He looked very tired all of a sudden. “Look, mate. I don’t really know what I’m doing, okay? I only got this tattoo this morning, and you’re already convinced that we’re… it, but it wasn’t right, and I don’t know what to think and… I don’t know. I-”

Castiel stopped listening - he only got it this morning? That made today his eighteenth birthday. Maybe Gabriel had got the right name after all, when they’d been talking in their form room. It fit with the whole generic thing, with it being ‘Excuse me’, which he now knew that he _had_ said to Dean. He had. They were soulmates. They truly were. However, Castiel couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for Dean. He must be hurting and confused, firstly from having a bad tattoo, and then from having someone that he didn’t even know basically throw themselves at him, convinced that they were meant to spend the rest of their lives together, when he hadn’t even heard what they’d said. Top that off with it being a guy and having a homophobic father to return to – Castiel could suddenly see Dean’s side of it. He felt bad about it, yes, but that didn’t change the fact that he had been right. They were meant to be – Dean was just too stubborn and unwilling to see that.

“Well, um, happy birthday then,” Castiel finally spoke, after several moments of awkward silence after Dean's ramble had faded out, with both of them not knowing what to say. His voice sounded as defeated as he felt.

Dean fixed him with a strange look, then laughed, appearing not to notice the sad tone that Castiel had used. He had a nice laugh – his mouth opened wide, and his green eyes half-closed. He looked a lot younger, and a lot freer and happier. Castiel didn’t know why it had made him laugh – maybe it was just because it was the only normal thing that the boy had heard from him all morning. “Thanks, man.”

The two stood in silence again for a while, neither of them knowing where to look. Then Castiel broke it, softly, unable to put off the inevitable for any longer. “So, what now?”

Dean looked uneasy again, all the laughter fading from his features. “Look, don’t take this too badly, but I don’t want, I don’t think that we can…”

Castiel waited for him to say more, but he didn't. He pressed his lips together in a thin line, then spoke, his voice tight. “Is it me?”

“Huh?”

“Am I the problem? Am I not attractive to you?”

“Hey, I never said that.”

“You haven’t answered the question.”

Dean scratched the back of his neck, biting his lip. His green eyes refused to meet Castiel’s own searching gaze. He hesitated. “I-“

“You know what, forget it,” Castiel sighed, trying and failing to sound like he didn’t care – Dean’s silence was enough to tell him what he’d really known all along. He wasn’t interested. Castiel didn’t really know what he’d been expecting, but it still hurt. A lot.

He turned away from Dean, trying not to let him see the pain in his face, and strode back to the doorway. He didn’t want to stay there any longer. Maybe Dean had been right; maybe he wasn’t Castiel’s soulmate; maybe it had all been a big, cruel coincidence. So why did walking away from him feel like he was walking away from part of himself? An arsey, selfish part, but still part of him. Part of his soul.

“Castiel…”

“Leave it, Dean,” Castiel snapped. He glanced over at the boy once more, completely missing the anguish and conflict playing across Dean’s face, before stalking through the doorway, leaving Dean alone in the courtyard.


	5. Chapter 5 - Dean's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay everyone, I'm not so sure about this chapter, I don't think that I've written Dean as well as I could have, so let me know if you all think it's crap and that I should rewrite it xD Constructive feedback is very welcome, as well as nice comments if you do like it, of course! :)  
> Thanks for reading!

Dean rolled his pen underneath his hand on the table, pushing it away from him to roll up the wooden surface a little, then stopping it when it rolled back to his hand, then repeating the motion. This continued for a good few minutes, and Dean found himself enjoying the repetitive rattling noise that it made. Something about annoying noises was soothing to him. However, clearly not everyone found it therapeutic.

“Can you stop that?” Castiel’s irritated voice came from beside him.

Still rolling the pen, Dean looked round at his ‘partner’ as slowly as possible. Castiel was staring at him, his own black ballpoint pen hovering just above the paper that he was currently balancing equations on. His blue eyes were narrowed so much that Dean thought he looked like he could be of Asian descent, and his face held an expression of utmost annoyance.

Dean rolled his eyes languidly. “Of course, your highness,” he replied, sarcastically, slamming his hand down on the pen as it rolled back into his palm, halting it efficiently.

With a small huff, Castiel turned back to his work, immediately resuming the task of copying out numbers and formulae from the textbook onto his lined paper like nothing had happened. Dean lifted his elbows to rest them on the table and leant forward, tilting his head to lay his cheek on the smooth wood. He closed his eyes, and faintly heard another huff from Castiel, indicating his displeasure at Dean’s attitude. Dean ignored him.

It had been a month since Dean’s eighteenth birthday. After their little ‘chat’ in the courtyard, Cas had barely spoken a word to him. They only spoke whilst they were in Chemistry together – Dean had been completely ignored on the few occasions that they’d brushed arms in the corridors of the school. However, the extent of their communication in class was Cas snapping at him to stop making annoying noises, or the occasional forced conversation when they were told to do group or pair work in class. That and Cas’ frequent, irritated noises when Dean did pretty much anything.

The whole thing was a pain in the ass. Dean actually quite liked the guy – he’d overheard him talking to his friends at lunch once when he’d been sitting nearby, and found him to be quite funny and, well, likeable. He’d also lost all possibility of copying homework and notes from a new nerd friend – his Chemistry grades were falling faster than the country’s economy.

He knew that it wasn’t Cas’ fault – he’d fucked up. He’d just been, well… he didn’t know what he’d been. It had all just been a bit overwhelming. Cas had been convinced that they were soulmates, but it hadn’t been _right_. He’d claimed that he had actually said the right words, and that Dean hadn’t been listening or something, but Dean wasn’t convinced. He had just sounded like a desperate guy trying to find a soulmate.

The thing was, he didn’t know why he was so against it. Over the past month, he’d started to watch the other boy, more than he cared to admit to himself. When Cas had been too busy ignoring him to see him, Dean had noticed little things about him. He’d quickly noticed the way that he tilted his head to the right if he didn’t understand something, or the way that he scribbled his notes down so quickly that even he couldn’t decipher them when he came back to them at a later date. He only wrote in black pen, and he rarely answered questions in class, despite being more than capable, from the looks of his grades when they were given back tests or homework that the teacher had marked. Dean had also noticed how his hair always seemed to be sticking up, in one way or another, and that he always wore the same formal outfit. Always the same dark blue tie that matched his eyes – Dean often wondered if that was a coincidence or not.

At first, he’d thought he was okay, appearance wise, but he’d not really been interested in him that way. Now, it appeared that his mind had been changed. He’d also started to notice that certain things about him, or things that he did, sent tingles running through his body. However, he didn’t like to dwell on these thoughts, and always tried to push the boy out of his mind when he popped in unexpectedly. It happened rather frequently.

Dean wasn’t very good at dealing with feelings of any sort, and, for some reason, the way that his subconscious brain had decided to deal with whatever he was feeling for this boy was to annoy the shit out of him at every opportunity. Hence the pen rolling, foot tapping, footrest kicking, chair shuffling and everything else that he had developed a habit of doing during Chemistry classes over the past month. From the dirty looks that he often received, Dean was fairly sure that the guy now hated him.

The rational part of his brain told him that there might be a chance that Cas had been telling the truth, and that the locker thing hadn’t been a hastily dreamt-up scheme by Cas to find a soulmate as quickly as possible. It also told him that there was no shame in going to Cas and apologising for what he’d said and done before, nor in telling him that, actually, he had found him kind of attractive at the time, and even more so now, but he had been too scared to admit it. Too scared of everything to do with… this.

But Dean wasn’t very good at being rational. Therefore, this part of his brain was shoved to the back of his skull, and he just tried to think about Castiel as little as possible in a way of coping.

Dean’s textbook sat unopened in front of him on his workbench, like it did every lesson. Dean was sure that his reluctance to work was another thing that pissed Castiel off, but he definitely couldn’t be arsed to do anything about it. He knew that if he didn’t start to at least try there was going to be consequences, yet he couldn’t bring himself to care. He wasn’t going to become a fucking chemist when he left this dump, so there was no point. He knew that he was very, very close to being pulled down a set, but he saw this as a bonus. Maybe if he was taken away from Cas, he’d be able to stop thinking about him. Maybe.

Dean scratched at his right wrist, distractedly, his eyes still closed and head still resting on the table. He, unwillingly, thought about the words tattooed there, and almost groaned out loud. No-one else had approached him about him being their soulmate; not that he’d really expected it - it usually took people years to find their soulmates. This was the cause of most of his bloody problems – without the whole soulmate deal, he and Cas would be happy little buddies, and he’d be able to harbour his feelings for Cas until they drifted away, like all of his other short-lived crushes. Then he would fall in and out of love with different people as he pleased and live the rest of his life happily ever after. Wouldn’t that just be an awesome world?

Unfortunately, Dean’s world was not awesome, and he was stuck with the bloody soulmate thing. It all sucked royally.

When the bell rang at the end of the lesson, Dean was still resting his head on the table and had been very close to falling asleep. He jolted awake, his eyes flying open to see the rest of the class putting away their things, talking to each other loudly. He sat up and stretched luxuriously, enjoying the burn in his muscles, and yawned. Castiel was still writing next to him, probably quickly trying to finish up whatever nerd problem he was currently working on.

Dean ducked beneath the table and scooped up his bag. When he straightened up, the teacher was standing in front of him, the desk between them. Her lips were pressed in a straight, displeased line. “Dean Winchester.”

Castiel finished writing and began to pack his work, books and other equipment away into his own bag, but it was much slower than usual. He was obviously eavesdropping on what the teacher had to say to Dean – the nosy bastard.

Dean sighed, but minutely enough for it not be picked up on by the teacher. “Yes, miss?”

“Winchester, I’m afraid that I’m going to have to put you back in the lower set if you don’t start to work. Your work attitude is awful: you’ve done absolutely nothing all lesson and I can see that you don’t listen to the lectures, I’m not blind. I can’t have you here if you’re not even going to try and learn, do you understand?”

It was very tough for him not to roll his eyes. “Yeah.”

The teacher nodded, her expression still disapproving, perhaps at Dean’s complete lack of interest at what she was saying. “You have the next week to show me that you deserve to stay, and that you can improve your grades. You may go.”

Unbothered by the threat, Dean swung his bag onto his shoulder and strode out of the classroom, finding the corridor to be mainly empty – it was the end of the day, and most people had rushed out of class to get home as early as possible. Dean was in no rush himself. He would go home, then probably go out by himself just to avoid his drunken father. That was what both he and Sammy did most evenings, whether they were together or separate. Anything was better than being stuck in their dingy flat whilst Dad hurled things around or shouted or cried. The crying was the worst, but at least that was only when he was hopelessly drunk, which was only a few times a month.

Dean ran over his conversation with the Chemistry teacher. He had absolutely no intention of listening to the teacher’s ‘advice’ and actually starting to work – they could move him back down to an eight-year-olds’ class and he’d still nap through the lessons. He didn’t care; who needs school?

“Wait.” The voice was deep and gravelly.

Dean paused in his path. He glanced over his shoulder to see Cas standing in the doorway to the classroom. This was the first time that the boy had initiated conversation with him since he’d grabbed his wrist and dragged him to that courtyard on his birthday. Had that really only been a month ago? It felt like Cas had been ignoring him for a lifetime. Dean turned fully to face the other boy. “Don’t you start giving me a lecture, too,” he warned.

“I have no intentions of doing that.”

“Good,” Dean grunted. He shifted his bag on his shoulder and watched Cas expectantly, wondering what he had to say.

Castiel stared at him for a while, his head slightly tilted to the right: Dean recognised this as him trying to work something out. He sighed at length and waited instead of leaving, tapping his booted foot against the ground. He didn't like Cas' habit of staring at him, it made him uncomfortable, but he didn't want to piss the other boy off again. Maybe this was his chance to make friends with him, and then he could copy his work. He didn’t know though – Cas was as stubborn as he was, and he didn’t seem the sort to let others copy him. But hey, it was worth a shot.

“You’re not actually that stupid, are you?” was Castiel’s eventual conclusion.

It surprised Dean slightly, but he didn't let on, and a small shrug was his only response. No, he wasn’t, but that didn't change anything.

“Well, why don’t you even try to work?”

“Don’t need to.”

“Why?”

“Why are you asking me all these questions?”

Castiel pursed his lips, and glanced down at the ground. Dean was relieved to be freed from his piercing blue gaze – he’d felt like Cas could see right through him, which he didn’t like. He kept up this façade for a reason; the last thing he needed was for a guy that he barely knew to knock it all down.

“I…” Castiel began, shuffling his formal, black shoes on the corridor’s laminated floor. He looked a little nervous. “I’ve been so pissed off at you about, you know. I mean, come on, you were a royal arsehole to me-“ Dean let out a small huff, which Castiel ignored, but a small smile formed on his face. “- and don’t get me wrong, I’m still pissed off, but I… I actually quite like you, you know, in a platonic way, and I thought that we could have a shot at being friends, if you wanted…?” Castiel’s voice trailed off, and he looked up at Dean uncertainly.

Dean frowned – why would he want to be friends? Dean was a dick. "Why? Like you said, I'm a 'royal arsehole'. And I annoy the shit out of you."

A full smile appeared on Cas' face. "Hey, what are friends for?"

Dean couldn't help but smile in response. “Um, sure, okay then. But I might not be in your class for much longer, so don’t get too attached,” Dean joked in response, pushing away his doubts and confusion.

“You could at least try, you know. I'm guessing that you’re intelligent enough to at least give it a good shot.”

“No. So, what are you doing now, friendie?”

Castiel rolled his eyes, but said no more on the matter. He seemed a little more out of him comfort zone now, and Dean guessed that he didn’t make new friends very often, and that he didn't really know what to say. “Um, going home to do my homework. What about you?”

“Er, same.”

“You don’t do homework.”

“Fine, minus the homework. You want a ride?”

Cas looked uncertain, like he wanted a lift, but didn't want to impose. "Erm, are you sure? I can walk, it's only about half-"

Dean rolled his eyes, good-naturedly for once. "I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't sure, c'mon."

He turned away and began to walk down the corridor. After a short moment of hesitation, Cas followed.

* * *

 

The drive to Cas' house was not nearly as awkward as Dean would have imagined. Under Cas' careful instructions, they reached his house in about ten minutes, and all ten minutes had been filled with easy conversation. They had a lot more in common than Dean would have first thought, and the boy was a good companion. He was a good listener, and asked frequent questions, and he always appeared to be interested in what Dean had to say. He was also full of thoughtful things to say himself, and Dean listened to what he had to say willingly. Dean could feel himself beginning to like his new friend more and more, particularly since Cas had been quick to compliment his car when they'd first got in. Good taste in cars was very important to Dean, and a large portion of the journey had been devoted to discussing his baby, which Cas hadn't seemed to mind.

When he pulled up outside the specified house, Dean raised his eyebrows and let out a low whistle of appreciation. It was large and grand, and probably cost a fucking bomb - his own rented, shitty flat looked like a damp cardboard box in comparison. "Nice house, man."

Cas flushed a little, seemingly embarrassed by his wealth. "I, er, I have a big family." That was something that hadn't come up once in their conversation - it seemed that neither of them liked to discuss the subject.

The boy scrambled out of the Impala quickly, and slammed the door shut. He bent down and smiled at Dean through the open window, his blue eyes warm. The expression did funny things to Dean's stomach. "Thank you for the ride, Dean," he said, sincerely.

Dean waved his hand lazily in his direction, as if brushing off his thanks. "No problem at all, Cas. Let me know if you need a lift again."

"I will." Cas paused for a moment, as if not knowing how to wrap up the conversation. "Um, see you in class tomorrow?"

"You betcha, buddy," Dean responded, easily, winking at him.

Cas looked down, his cheeks reddening even more. "Bye, Dean." He stepped back from the car, and offered another small smile. He was so formal all the time.

Dean raised his hand and waved once in farewell, releasing the parking brake. "Bye, Cas."


	6. Chapter 6 - Cas' POV

“Dean, please stop doing that. I’m going to be sick.”

“Oh, shut up, Cas,” came the thick response.

Castiel rolled his eyes, taking a large lick of his vanilla ice cream. Dean, meanwhile, was attempting to deep throat his own dessert, causing Castiel to have to have to look away before he brought his own back up or something. Castiel had stupidly agreed to them having a race to see who could eat their ice cream quickest, and Dean was clearly determined to win. However, judging from his current success rate, his technique was actually taking him longer. Castiel couldn’t understand why he didn’t just lick the ice cream, like a normal person, but, then again, Dean wasn’t really the Oxford dictionary definition of ‘normal’.

It was a Monday, late afternoon. The two had met up after school and driven in Dean’s car to a hidden ice cream farm about half an hour away from the school that Castiel hadn’t realised existed. Apparently, Sam had told Dean about it, and Dean had wanted to check it out, so Castiel had been dragged along too. It seemed that Sam had not been lying about the quality of the ice cream – Castiel was enjoying his sweet, creamy treat very much. He couldn’t really tell if Dean was enjoying his or not.

It had been two months or so since he’d set aside his resentfulness towards Dean and made the offer for them to become friends, which, to his relief, Dean had accepted quickly. Very rapidly, the two had realised that they were actually very compatible, and had started to meet up with each other more and more. Dean had been moved down a set in Chemistry, as threatened by the teacher, but he’d insisted that he didn’t care, and Castiel believed him. Castiel had offered him some help with his work during his week trial, but after flatly refusing Dean’s suggestion that he just let him copy, the two had realised that it wasn’t going to work. This meant that they now didn’t share any classes, but they’d started to meet up in other places. Sometimes, Dean would come and eat lunch with Castiel and his friends, but they’d meet up after school much more often. Dean would always give Castiel a ride back from school – he occasionally even get up early enough to take him to school as well – and they’d sometimes go out to eat or just to hang out somewhere before heading to Castiel’s. Sometimes they’d stay at Castiel’s house for a bit, but Dean would never stay long. Castiel had never been to Dean’s house – he didn’t even know where he lived.

They talked about anything and everything. Well, nearly everything. Apart from their younger siblings, they never talked of family. Sam and Anna cropped up in the conversation fairly frequently, but that was it. Castiel never heard of Dean’s parents, or any other family that he might have, but he didn’t push it because he was definitely not keen to share information about his own family.

He had three older brothers. Over-achievers, fiercely loyal to his father and firm followers of the rules. Castiel had always had a natural tendency to question things, and, in some cases, to rebel, and this had never gone down well with his brothers, and they’d had certain ways of forcing him to follow their ideals. The worst had been when he’d made the stupid decision to come out as gay to them – he still woke up, sweating and terrified, from nightmares about it. It had been years ago.

Needless to say, he’d been immensely relieved when the last one had moved out a while ago, leaving just Anna and him and their father. His father was another issue. Castiel’s mother had died whilst giving birth to Anna seventeen years ago, leaving Castiel’s father and their five children behind. He was a wealthy businessman, and had no time for children. Castiel had been cared for by nannies his entire life, and only saw his father about once a week. He had no love for the man, and the man had no love for him. Family meant little to Castiel.

Castiel took another brooding lick of his ice cream, and tilted his head back. He and Dean were leaning against the hood of Dean's beloved 1967 Chevrolet black Impala, both looking out across a long-grassed meadow, and the sun was bright and warm, heating the black, shiny surface of the car, providing a heated, comfortable seat for Castiel. There was a light breeze, but this only added to the serenity and peacefulness of the weather. It was pretty much perfect for Castiel.

He glanced over at Dean, and laughed at the frustration on the other boy’s face as he tried to cram as much ice cream into his mouth as possible. Dean caught his eye and grinned around the wafer cone, his green eyes sparkling. A minute later and the ice cream had disappeared.

Dean spread his arms wide in triumph. “Told you I’d win!”

Castiel sighed and continued to eat his own ice cream. “Whatever, I bet you didn’t taste it at all.”

Dean grinned again, obviously incredibly pleased with himself. “Worth it. You owe me a fiver.”

Castiel frowned. “Hey, I paid for the ice creams.”

“And I drive you home every day. Come on, you agreed. Cough up, mate.”

Grumbling good-naturedly, Castiel rummaged in his dark trouser pockets for a moment, coming up with the money and handing it to Dean, who took it smugly. Castiel didn’t really mind – they never overtly discussed money, but from what he could tell, Dean wasn’t very well off. Castiel, on the other hand, had far too much for him to know what to do with. Therefore, he frequently agreed to these sorts of bets with Dean, where he knew he’d lose, because he knew that Dean would never accept any money from him otherwise. He was far too proud for charity.

Castiel finished his ice cream leisurely after that, whilst the two idly chatted about school, with Dean carefully mentioning that one of his friends had found their soulmate the other day. That was another thing that they didn’t discuss unless they had to. Unfortunately, the subject came up fairly frequently, as it was a huge part of everyday life. There was always something to do with it either in the media or in the lives of people that they knew, so sometimes it just happened, and Castiel had to endure awkward conversation with both of them thinking about what had happened between them.

Castiel still knew, deep down, that Dean was his soulmate. He had no doubt. Of course, he’d never mentioned it to Dean, or anyone else for that matter (though Gabriel had started badgering him about it once he'd found out Dean's name - he'd eventually had to tell his friend what had happened between them, causing the boy to drop the subject very quickly), but he thought about it a lot. At first, he’d simply ignored Dean. He’d been so hurt by what he’d said, and the knowledge that his soulmate wouldn’t believe him and didn't even like him, that it would’ve been too painful to talk to him. Eventually, he’d come to terms with the fact that Dean wouldn’t accept it, and the teacher’s threat to move Dean down had motivated him to just speak to him. After that, he’d become firm friends with him.

In one way, being friends with Dean was great. He really liked him, and he was one of the best friends that Castiel had ever had. He was always willing to listen to him, no matter what he was talking about, and he was incredibly selfless. He’d come and pick Castiel up from all sorts of places at all sorts of times, and he never bailed on any of their plans. He was humourous and sarcastic, and never failed to cheer Castiel up when he was feeling low. He always seemed to know just what Castiel wanted, whether it was to go out and eat or to leave him alone or to go to Castiel’s house and watch a film.

In other ways, it was torture. He knew that Dean was his soulmate, and being with him, but knowing that Dean would never let them be more than friends was awful. Over the brief months that Castiel had known him, he’d come to love him in so many ways. Everything about him, and everything that he did, made Castiel’s stomach flutter with butterflies and his heart beat at double the speed that it should. Sometimes he did something very small - like the way he’d look at Castiel sometimes, or the time when he’d selflessly stopped a long line of traffic to help a mother duck and her ducklings cross the road when Castiel had been too nervous to – and Castiel was certain that he was in love. He plagued Castiel’s mind constantly, no matter where he was and what he was doing, and the thought of him being with anyone else physically hurt Castiel. And there was nothing that he could do about it.

“Do you ever wonder that you’ll never find them?” Dean asked, quietly, after the conversation on school life had petered out. “You know, your soulmate.”

 _No, he’s sitting right next to me._ “No. Do you?”

Dean glanced over at him. “How can you be so sure?”

Castiel swallowed, racking his brain for a good lie. He couldn’t make Dean uncomfortable again by telling him what he really thought – he wouldn’t do that to his friend, no matter how badly he longed to. “Well… I believe that soulmates were given to us because they were meant to be found.”

Dean nodded, looking away from him again. Castiel breathed once more – he hadn’t realised that he’d been holding his breath. “You have a lot of faith, don’t you?”

“I think that you need faith, or you’d have no hope. And if you have no hope, then what do you really have?” He paused for a moment, then gently said, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I know,” Dean replied. He folded his arms across his broad chest and sighed. His sleeves were rolled up, and Castiel could just see the edge of his soulmate tattoo on the inside of his wrist. “I do think that I might not, and that’s scary. I wish that I could have your faith, Cas.”

A bird flew up into a tree nearby, rustling the tree’s leaves and catching both of the boys’ attention. Small chirping sounds erupted from the foliage as the bird disappeared from sight – it must’ve been a parent bird going to its nest of chicks. Castiel thought about his mother. He didn’t remember her, since she’d died when he was only one, but sometimes, when he thought of her, he felt a vague sense of security wash over him. “I don’t know why I have faith. I just… do.” He paused for a moment, then decided to just get what he wanted to say off his chest. “My mother died when I was one, whilst she was giving birth to my sister. I don’t even know if she was my father’s soulmate, I barely speak to the man. He works all the time, and I only see him once a week. I have siblings, apart from Anna, but they’re older than me. They used to… they never treated me well, and I used to count down the days until they’d all moved out and I could finally be free. I don’t like my family, and I think that’s part of the reason why I like school so much. It was always an escape for me.” His words were a jumbled rush, but he felt a thousand times better for telling Dean.

Dean was already watching him when Castiel turned to look at him, and his expression soft. His face told Castiel that he’d been expecting this sort of confession, and Castiel didn’t know how he had, but he was glad about it. Dean wasn’t the sort to gasp in shock whenever he told him anything. He just accepted it and listened. Castiel was grateful for this.

“My mother died too,” Dean said, eventually, when he was sure that Castiel had finished. Castiel raised his eyebrows slightly, but didn’t speak. He held Dean’s gaze steadily. “I was four, and there was a fire in Sam’s nursery. We never found out what had caused it. My dad got my brother out, and I carried him away from the house, but he didn’t manage save my mum. I think that he blames himself for her death. They were soulmates, and he misses her. He loved her so much. He drinks a lot. Like, never-sober, drinks a lot. We move a lot as well, I don’t think that we’ve stayed in one place for this long for a long time. I don’t know where Dad gets the money for it, but we rent this grimy flat about ten minutes away from your place. I don’t invite you round because it’s awful there, and when Dad’s home it… it’s not something that I’d want anyone to see.” Dean rammed his hands into his jacket pockets as he paused, and he smiled wryly. “Yeah, we’ve both got problems, huh?”

Castiel let out a short bark of laughter. “You’re not wrong there.”

Neither of them broke the eye contact, but they fell into silence. The wind ruffled at Dean’s dirty blonde hair. It was longer than he usually liked it, and Castiel wondered if he was going to get it cut soon. He hoped not – it looked good when it was longer.

Dean bit his lip, and Castiel knew that something else deep was coming, or that Dean was nervous. Or both. This might not be good. “Cas?”

“Dean.”

“Do you still, you know…”

“No, I don’t know.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair – he was definitely nervous. “Do you still think that I’m, um, your soulmate?”

Oh. Castel frowned down at his shoes. How was he supposed to answer this? Should he be honest and tell the truth? He didn’t know – he didn’t want to risk losing Dean. But Dean had asked, so maybe he wouldn’t mind…? Castiel went with his gut instinct.

“Yeah, I do,” he admitted, finally, his voice quiet, and he felt about a stone lighter. The pressure that this secret had put on him had been intense, but he hadn’t noticed how much strain he’d been under until it was gone. He felt freer – everything was out in the open now. He’d just have to see what Dean’s response was. He looked up at the other boy, slowly.

Dean was still chewing on his lip, hard, but he looked almost… hopeful. This was not the reaction that Castiel had been expecting. He didn’t say anything, and Castiel frowned at him. “Well, what now?”

“Right, yeah, I, er, I was thinking that, er, since you think that, then maybe we could test whether we are soulmates or not, and, er, you know, sort of, take it from there. Then everything will, sort of, be or not be, you know?” Dean mumbled, grinning shakily.

“You mean we should kiss.”

Dean sighed at length, looking sort of relived for whatever reason, maybe because Castiel had actually managed to work out what he’d wanted to say through all of his nervous rambling. “Yeah, we should kiss.”

Kissing Dean was something that Castiel had wanted to do for a very long time. He’d imagined it so many times – one day he'd just snap and pull Dean to him and kiss him, hard. The other boy would be shocked, but Castiel would grab his wrist and show him the bare skin, finally determining that they were soulmates. Dean would gasp, then immediately fall in love with him and they’d kiss again and then get married and ride away into the sunset in his black Impala. Castiel’s imagination was a very creative place.

He’d considered just kissing Dean anyway several times, just to actually see if they were soulmates or not. He’d never have imagined that Dean would be the one to suggest it – did that mean that he actually liked Castiel? Castiel hoped so.

Dean was right – this would sort it out, once and for all. He’d see if Dean was actually his soulmate, like he’d believed for the past three months. It sounded like an excellent idea, since Castiel was certain that they were soulmates – it was the simple way to settle it.

Yet, he might lose Dean. What if their tattoos didn’t fade, and Dean wasn’t his soulmate? He’d never really entertained this idea before, but now he felt unsure. Castiel didn’t know if he’d be able to take it. Not having Dean would be hard enough, but having kissed Dean and then not having him… Having known that Dean had been willing to see if they were, willing to accept the possibility that they might be made for each other… It would break Castiel.

Dean was watching him carefully as Castiel thought it through, his mind racing. Then, without warning, he made up his mind. He grabbed Dean’s face and pulled it into his own, their lips connecting, hard.

For a moment they sort of just stayed like that. Castiel had never kissed anyone before, and didn’t really know what he was doing, and Dean appeared to have been taken completely at surprise at Castiel’s actions. Then, it began to work. Dean relaxed into Castiel, and lifted his hands to card them through the other boy’s hair, sending tingles down Castiel’s spine and causing him to close his eyes. Dean took the lead in the kiss, and deepened it, causing Castiel to make a surprised noise, but he quickly caught on, mimicking Dean’s actions. He could taste the ice cream in Dean’s mouth. It felt amazing, just like he’d imagined it would. His heart was racing in his chest, and he never wanted it to end. If someone asked him in the future to capture the most perfect moment in his life, he would choose this one a thousand times over.

Unfortunately all things have to end, and Dean eventually broke the kiss, and they both breathed heavily against each other, not moving their hands. Castiel had shuffled closer on the hood of the car whilst they’d been kissing, and he was practically sitting on Dean’s lap. He opened his eyes, and found Dean’s own green eyes to be very close to his, and he chuckled softly. Dean's eyes were sparkling, and he looked happy. They didn’t move nor speak for a while, they simply bathed in the sweet afterglow of their intense kiss, breathing in each other’s air.

Dean was the one to break the silence. “You ready to check?”

“I don’t know if I want to know.”

“I think that it’ll be what we want it to be.”

Castiel didn’t know what to make of that.

Slowly, he pulled away, causing Dean’s hands to slide through his hair and to fall down to his sides. He lifted his right hand and shakily unbuttoned the cuff of his white shirt, like he had all those months ago to first show Dean his tattoo. Dean stopped breathing next to him, and Castiel held his breath too as the material fell away.

His pale skin was as clear and smooth as it had been when he’d fallen asleep the night before his eighteenth birthday.

A cry of joy escaped Castiel and he looked up at Dean whose mouth had fallen open, his eyes wide with surprise. Castiel laughed and grabbed his right wrist, twisting it round to see the skin on the inside of it, feeling glad that his sleeves were already rolled up. Dean’s skin was as clear as his own. He had been right.

He looked up at Dean's face, and the other boy was already descending on him, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him in for the second kiss of his life. It was less intense and a lot slower than the first, but just as good. 

Castiel was the one to pull away from this one, and when he did, he leant against Dean’s chest and nestled his face into his neck, wanting to be as close to the other boy as possible. His body was warm, and he wrapped his arms around Castiel, holding him close. Dean Winchester – his soulmate.

“So, what happens now?” Castiel asked, softly, his voice slightly muffled from having his cheek pressed against Dean’s skin. It was soft against his own rough cheek.

Dean’s chest and throat vibrated as he laughed, causing Castiel to smile. He could imagine the grin on the younger boy’s face. “Well, I guess we live happily ever after.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to read this, and especially to those who commented, particularly the regular commentors, and left kudos! I never imagined that this fic would have so much support, so thank you everyone.  
> I would definitely be up for writing a part two for this because I have just fallen in love with these two dorks, but I have no idea what I'd write, so comment if you are wanting a next part, and what you'd like to see :) Maybe dealing with their dads, or one of Cas' brothers, or with John wanting to move to a different place and Dean maybe having to leave? Idk  
> Also, I'd really like to start writing requests, so if there's a fic that you'd like to be written, either email me at happywhiskers@hotmail.com, or leave a comment here. I'm shit at ideas, but love to write, so it'd be super helpful!  
> Anyway, thanks again for reading, and I'll see y'all in the next fic ;) x


	7. Extra note

Hey guys!

 

Okay, so I've been thinking, and, after everything, I've realised that there is no way that I can let go of these two assholes yet. ( I feel like they're my sons or something, I swear...) Therefore, I've ended up planning another three bloody stories for them on a very long and boring car journey. Each story is going to be about as long as this one has been, and each tackling a different event that's going to happen to the boys :)

I'm going to be a bit busier than before over the next couple of weeks, and I'm collabing on a couple of fics as well, so I might not be writing super quickly, but I'll try and get at least some of it done because I love writing this AU. I hope that you all enjoy reading it.

So, yeah, look out for the next parts soon!

 

Thanks again for reading! x


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